Pop Goes the Hamster and Other Fun Microwave Games
by ThoroughlySherlocked
Summary: Uh-oh! John is at Tesco's, shopping to replace milk. This is the story behind it. When Sherlock contaminates the milk and John drinks it, he decides to get a hamster. Will chaos ensue? Knowing Sherlock and his tendency to experiment on animals, it will.
1. Chapter 1

_John._

_ -SH_

_John._

_ -SH_

_JOHN! _

_ -SH_

_John, pick up your mobile now. _

_ -SH_

_I could be in grave danger, you know._

_ -SH_

John Watson's mobile was on overdrive, chirping every five seconds. He did his best to ignore it, casually strolling up the milk aisle at Tesco's. They were out of milk again, for the third time in the past two days.

To John's chagrin, a certain consulting detective had been bored.

That was never good.

This time,however, things had gone too far. To counteract the boredom, Sherlock had decided to inject a bloody gallon of milk into a pint of blood, just to see if he could separate the proteins. Bit not good. But what he had done afterwards was far worse. He poured the contaminated milk back in to the carton and left it there in the fridge. Of course, John had prepared a bowl of cereal in the morning and wondered why the milk suddenly was a slight shade of…_pink? _ Not knowing what it was and not wanting to, he finished the bowl and headed to the bathroom. All of a sudden, he realized what his sociopathic, emotionally disabled flatmate had been up to. John stood stock-still. _Was that fucking _BLOOD _that he had just drunk? Oooh, Sherlock was going to be in for it, _he thought, storming into said flatmate's room.

"Sherlock. Why on EARTH did you feel the need to combine bodily fluids and something EDIBLE and leave it there, just sitting in the fridge? Are you really that lacking in common sense as to not know what I told you to do with your experiments?" John huffed angrily. He peered into Sherlock's room cautiously; last time he had walked in on a very naked, very fit, and very beautiful Sherlock. John had, obviously, gone bright red, and gotten out as fast as possible. Sherlock hadn't noticed his friend's embarrassment and kept on ranting about the lack of body parts (the fridge was complete with its own head, eyes, liver, fingers, heart, and vials of bodily fluid –John did not want to know what the last items were) available and the absolute mediocrity of the criminal classes of late.

This time, Sherlock was sitting at his desk, reading a book about hamster care.

"Uhh… Sherlock, sorry to bother you, but two things. First- What the HELL was blood doing in the milk, and second, why are you reading about hamster care? Not going to get one, I hope? It would die within two minutes of setting foot in our flat."

"Mmmh."

"Sherlock, answer."

"I attempted to separate the proteins of milk and blood, and obviously failed. And yes, I do plan on getting a hamster," Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes at John.

Sherlock slammed the book shut, and practically ran out the door.

"Sherlock, where are you going?" John asked, the lean frame of the consulting detective hovering above him, reaching for his black Belstaff. Sherlock muttered something about the pet store. _Oh no,_ thought John. God only knew what knids of deductions Sherlock would make about the general public. Feeling very protective of the cashier who worked there, he replied, "Wait, I'll come with you."


	2. Chapter 2

They approached the pet shop, cautiously, earning a very curious glance from the cabbie (Sherlock deduced that he was a druggie) and were nearly killed (well, Sherlock was) by a passing truck.

_God,_ thought John. _Even going to a pet store with Sherlock was dangerous. _

After the Reichenbach Incident, John felt that it was very necessary to keep Sherlock from becoming as popular as he had been before- apparently, criminals _could _use popularity to their advantage.

As they entered the pet shop, there was a distinct reek of unwashed dogs, urine, and other foul items. John wrinkled his nose. Sherlock just snorted and whirled around in his customary fashion to face the hamsters.

After a minute of close examination of the creatures, Sherlock reached a decision.

"John. I want that one," he said, pointing at a particularly pretty specimen.

_Sherlock was honestly like a child when it came to shopping, _thought John. "Hmm? Oh, that one. M'kay, you can have her. I just want to see her alive after two hours in our flat. No experimenting."

Sherlock nodded his assent and absentmindedly turned to deduce the people in front of him as John got in line for the cashier. There was a lady behind John- _small, in her twenties, had an affair… with the man behind her, anorexic, had two children, expecting third, divorced three times. _ Oh, this was so boring. They led such ordinary- and such obvious- lives. Sherlock sighed and examined the man behind her. _Boring. Married twice, polygamist, oh, didn't he know that she was cheating on him? No kids, cat lover. _He sighed loudly and went to stand by John.

"Come on, Sherlock. You can have your hamster. I know that I'll end up taking care of him- or her,"

"It's a him, obviously," interjected Sherlock.

" As I was saying, I'll end up taking care of him, but just for the time being, try not to kill him by, I don't know, chemical poisoning or something."

The grin on Sherlock's face was comparable to that of a Cheshire cat's.

"By the way, why exactly did you want a pet hamster?" asked John.

"Oh, I needed it. To see how long a body belonging to a human or an animal can withstand the kind of temperatures that are present in a toaster oven."

"SHERLOCK!"


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Sorry for the very, very, very late disclaimer. Sherlock is owned by BBC, Moftiss, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. None of it is mine (not even the title, I give credit to my friend cucumbersrockursocks for that) - except the poor hamster. **

"So, what do you want to call… him?" asked John on the cab ride home.

Sherlock didn't reply. John didn't expect the sociopathic genius to. He sighed.

"I repeat, what do want to call him?"

This time said sociopathic genius deigned to leave his mind palace and answer.

"Abrin."

"Sherlock, isn't that like a deadly toxin or something?"

"Yes, John," Sherlock replied, giving him the 'honestly, is your mind really that dull or are you just naturally ignorant?' look. John rolled his eyes. After all, it was under his watchful gaze that the hamster would reach 221B for Sherlock's 'experiment'.

They got out of the cab; Sherlock swished his coat around and flounced off, leaving John to pay the hefty bill. _Cabs didn't come in cheap these days,_ he thought, handing the driver none-too-gently a wad of five and ten dollar bills.

When he entered their shared flat, his flatmate was already busy at the kitchen, combining the contents of vials and something labeled- he squinted to make the words out- ammonium chlorate.

_Oh god, if the ammonium chlorate had been found, things could get Very Not Good. _ Last time it had been found, the kitchen had had to be repapered twice. Apparently, one shot of chlorate could successfully destroy the whole kitchen- appliances included. John heard muttering from the area near their dining table that related to hamsters, the heat withstanding time of a body, grease, ammonium chlorate, and temperature. He shook his head; he really didn't want to know what that was all about. He only could hope that Sherlock would hold steadfast to the hamster still alive after two hours of being around your experiments rule.

With a sigh, he dialed Lestrade's number. It went on the answering machine.

"Hello, Lestrade, I need you to have a backup patrol of firemen around our flat. A certain consulting detective has gotten into the unstable chemicals found in our cupboards. The kitchen may or may not be on fire. Bye." He hung up just as from downstairs there came a loud squeak, followed by an even louder metallic crash. _Uh-oh_. _What was happening down there with the hamster? _

** If anyone would review... hint hint! Your reviews keep me going, so no review, no update. :) Got it? **


	4. Chapter 4

John raced down the stairs, phone still in his hand.

"Sherlock! What the HELL is going on with that hamster?" he cried, trying (and failing) desperately to keep his voice calm and controlled. He picked up his pace, and sped towards the kitchen, bumping into furniture, abandoned newspapers, and an assortment of body parts on his way.

_ This mess really was going to have to be cleaned up soon_, he thought upon entering. Sherlock was perched in what looked like an uncomfortable position on the counter top, attempting to shove the protesting hamster into a tray greased liberally with what John thought was a mixture of ammonium chlorate and grease. He mentally groaned.

Sherlock seemed to register that John was there at the moment, observing him at his experiment.

"John, the hamster won't obey me. Make it," he pouted, looking for the entire world like a sweet, innocent toddler who hadn't gotten what he requested for.

_God, my best friend is a consulting five-year old. Is he really that young mentally? _ John complained to himself.

"Sherlock, no creature on earth, I repeat, on EARTH, is going to obey the whims of a mad, socially crippled, sociopathic consulting detective when he wants to shove it in a pan greased with god-knows-what, and then be put into an oven. Put the hamster down. Now," John hissed angrily, yanking the poor creature from the oven.

"Right, Sherlock," he said to his hamster murdering flatmate, "I want you to go to your room with the hamster, and stay there for a while. Go." He pointed up the stairs, slipping easily from John-Sherlock's-best-friend mode to Captain Watson mode.

"No," Sherlock pouted again.

"Yes, you will. What would you prefer? All your experiments to be thrown out and your mobile confiscated or going to your room and staying there for another hour?"

Sherlock muttered that sounded suspiciously like 'are you Mycroft or my mother?' followed by 'idiot' as he reluctantly dragged himself up the stairs.

"Good. And stay that way," John called. _ He really should check on Sherlock in five minutes, there was no telling what the man might to in that time. _

He climbed up the stairs up to Sherlock's room and entered- on the very, very odd sight of Sherlock attempting to climb out of the window. John pulled him down by his arm and indicated the bed.

"Sit," he commanded. Sherlock, to his credit, obeyed. In the background, he heard a strange ticking sound. "Sherlock, did you change your dial tone again?" he asked, gesturing towards Sherlock's phone.

"No."

"Then what is that funny ticking sound?"

Sherlock looked distinctly sheepish at the sound of this; John decided that it was worth investigation. He rummaged around in his friend's piles of clothes, before finding the source.

"Oh. No. You. Didn't," he said angrily. "Sherlock, I said very clearly that hamsters do not belong in microwaves, is your genius intellect not processing that?" he shouted, pulling the brown-and-white rodent out of the oven just before the temperatures reached life-threatening.

"You know what, I'm just going to return it. You really cannot be trusted with an animal of any sort, Sherlock. I realize that I was stupid letting you get this one," he muttered, leaving the room.

When the good doctor was out of sight, Sherlock smiled. And not a good smile, the one that always foreboded doom to anyone who saw it. The hamster, looking over John's shoulder, glimpsed the grinning detective. He squeaked unhappily.

**AN: Uh-oh! What kinds of trouble is Sherlock going to get into next? Your reviews keep me going! Review review review! No reviews, no updates. Understand? **


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